


Royal Black

by GemmaRose



Series: Week of Corazón [6]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Canon Compliant, Gen, Infanticide, Matricide, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7487451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In life, even good people do bad things. In death, these people must prove themselves worthy of a peaceful afterlife. A lucky few become angels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Royal Black

When his body suddenly stopped hurting, Donquixote Rocinante opened his eyes and sat up with a gasp. Had Law come back and healed him, even after he told the boy to run? He patted his chest, and found that not only was it blood-free, his shirt was whole as well! He looked down, and it was like everything else stopped. He was sitting in mid-air, hovering over himself. Over his own bloody, snow-dusted corpse. “What?” he croaked, eyes wide. This was, well, impossible. But more unnerving than its impossibility was how little the sight bothered him. It was like he was detached from the world, a forcibly impartial observer to his own demise.

“Good evening.”

Rocinante looked up at the deep, smooth voice, and found himself tilting his head back a bit to meet the eyes of a yellow-skinned fishman with violently blue spikes all over his head. He was wearing a threadbare Marine jacket on his shoulders, more patch than original fabric, and holding out a hand. Rocinante accepted it, and looked for an indication of rank as he was pulled to his feet.

“Good evening, Captain.” he nodded respectfully, more out of habit than politeness. “What the fuck is going on here?”

The fishman, to Rocinante’s eternal surprise, laughed at that. “Well, first things first, you’re dead.”

The words should’ve been shocking, but all Rocinante felt was a dull sense of acceptance. “Is this the afterlife?” he asked after a moment, looking down to where his body was rapidly being covered up by the falling snow. Hopefully Law would be able to find their boat alright in this storm.

“Well, yes and no.” the fishman smiled. “You know the drill, good guys go up there and bad guys go down there.” he gestured with his hands. Rocinante nodded and he continued. “Well, what the living don’t know is, for most of us there’s a probationary period of sorts. The younger you are, the better your chances of going straight on up when you die. And of course, most pirates get dragged right on down, but that’s beside the point.” he lifted his coat by a finger through one buttonhole, displaying the many patches on it. “I joined the Marines to do some good, to uphold Justice and protect the innocent, but I did bad shit when my COs ordered me to. Just like you, Commander Donquixote.”

Rocinante startled at the use of his rank, snapping to attention on near-forgotten reflex as a pad of paper appeared in the fishman’s open hand. “Let’s see what the boys up top say you’re in for.” the Captain gave Roci a wry grin before flipping the cover back and scanning the list. His eyes went wide halfway down, and he let out a low, clearly impressed, whistle. “Repeated arson of _hospitals_?” he asked, the tiny spikes which marked his eyebrows lifting on his face.

Rocinante didn’t have an answer to that, but his eyes did flick towards the Doflamingo Pirates’ very visible boat down at the shore. They were almost done loading the treasure they’d taken.

“Moooving on.” the fishman said awkwardly. “Aside from that you’ve got lying, but everyone has that on their rap sheet. Theft, murder, child abuse.”

“I kept most of those children from becoming pirates.” Rocinante said, re-squaring his shoulders.

“But you still beat and terrorized them, which isn’t good.” the fishman said, as if this was any sort of revelation. There was a dim flash of light and a quiet pop, and the fishman smiled. “And that’d be your assignment.”

“Assignment?” Rocinante frowned. He’d assumed his probationary period would be spent as a ghost, but evidently that wasn’t the case.

“Guardian angel, very nice.” the fishman nodded. “You’ll be guiding North Blue boys out of bad situations until your coat is bare.”

Rocinante looked down at his black feathery coat, and tried to recall how long his previous one had lasted before Doffy declared it too threadbare for one of his executives to wear in public. A few years? He could handle helping children for a few years. Maybe he’d even get to see Law, though hopefully not as a charge.

“Do you accept that this will be your penance?” the fishman asked, flipping his pad shut.

“Yes.” Rocinante nodded. He could handle a few more years of work before seeing his parents again.

\---

“Sanji.”

Sanji sat up and rubbed at his eyes blearily, looking up at his mom. It was still dark, probably what Reiju called ‘stupid o’clock’, but Mom was wearing a coat.

“Sanji, baby, I need you to wake up.” she said quietly, peeling the blanket back. He sat up and rubbed at one of his eyes.

“Wha’s going on?” he mumbled as she pulled a jacket over his shoulders.

“We’re going on a trip, okay?” she said quietly, pushing his shoes onto his feet. Normally Sanji would’ve complained about his mom dressing him like she dressed Yonji and Goju, he was eight now he could dress himself just fine, but he was too busy waking up to be pouty about it.

“Where?” he yawned, sliding off the bed at Mom’s gentle prompting and putting on his backpack without complaint. It was light, and felt like it was full of clothes rather than weights. She picked up a bundle from the bed, not answering, and he shuffled after her out of his room. It didn’t strike him until they were on the main deck that it was probably weird for them to be leaving at night, with his things in a backpack instead of a suitcase.

“Mom?” he said quietly, tugging on her skirt. “Where’re we going?”

She stopped, turned around, and crouched in front of him. The bundle in her arms was Goju. “We’re going on a special trip, just the three of us. But we have to be quiet, or your siblings will be upset that I’m taking you two first.”

Sanji nodded, and kept following behind Mom. Mom was way nicer than Dad, or any of his siblings. Even Yonji was a vicious little brat, and his younger brother was only barely five years old. The dock felt strange under his feet, weathered wood which didn’t sway with the waves but instead held firm against them. It made his knees feel weird and wobbly, but Mom sped up a little when they left the ship so Sanji ignored his wobbly legs and kept pace. She took one of his hands, and he trotted along at her side.

“Stop.”

Mom froze at the voice from behind them, and Sanji’s hand slid free of hers as he slowed to a stop a few steps later.

“Mom?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Ma’am, I have to ask you to return to the ship.” said the same voice, just as far away as before. The sound of a blade being unsheathed, however, was markedly closer.

“What’s he talking about?” Sanji asked, keeping his voice low. Mom crouched, and held Goju out to him.

“Take Goju and run.” she said, depositing his swaddled baby sister in his arms. “Get away from here. Protect her until I find you again.”

“I will.” Sanji nodded, cradling his precious baby sister to his chest. He’d protect her with his life if he had to, like the soldiers protected Dad on the battlefield.

“Run!” Mom yelled, and Sanji bolted down the dock.

“I knew this was coming.” said a familiar voice, and Sanji almost fell flat on his face. He managed to twist at the last second, taking the brunt of the impact on his shoulder rather than dropping or squishing Goju.

“Ichiji?” he whispered, eyes wide as he scooted backwards. Mom was on the ground, lying in a dark puddle, but that didn’t make any sense. Ichiji would never hurt Mom, not ever. She was Mom.

In his arms, Goju began to cry. He scrambled to his feet and turned to run down the dock again, but his shaking legs gave out after only a few steps. He took the fall on his shoulder, again, and cried out in pain as he tried to scramble back upright. It was too late, though. Ichiji grabbed his backpack, and Sanji couldn’t shuck it off, not without dropping Goju.

“Mom!” he yelled, straining against Ichiji’s grip. “Mom, make him let go!”

“Mother dearest won’t be doing any such thing.” Reiju said, her voice as cold as ice. “But do try to run, little brother. It’ll be oh so much fun to catch you.”

Ichiji released his backpack, and Sanji staggered forward a few steps before he finally found his land legs and took off. He couldn’t outrun the twins, not by a long shot, but if he could find a small enough space then they’d never be able to get him. He’d be able to keep Goju safe, to protect her.

Something caught him around the ankle, and he fell on his shoulder for the third time in as many minutes. “Really, Sanji.” Reiju tutted. “Can’t you do any better than that?” her footsteps were deliberately audible as she approached, heels striking a steady rhythm against the old wood. Sanji struggled to his feet, tears streaking his cheeks, and held Goju closer as he ran again. She was screaming in earnest now, crying just as hard as he was, and when a large hand grabbed him by the hair Sanji almost dropped her.

“What a shame.” his father said, voice dry as old toast. “That I should lose my beloved wife and youngest child in a single tragic accident.”

“No!” Sanji yelled, clutching Goju tight in his trembling arms. “Dad, please!”

His father didn’t listen, simply ripped Goju from him and _threw_ her towards the twins. “Reiju, take care of her.” he said brusquely.

“Rei, _please_!” Sanji sobbed, unable to even twist enough to see his sisters. “ _Please_!!”

Goju abruptly stopped crying, and Sanji sobbed so hard he could barely breathe.

\---

Rocinante smiled at his latest charge, though the gangly pre-teen couldn’t see him, and let himself be tugged up into the sky, leaving a single feather from his coat on the doorstep of the shelter. He rose quickly, until he was hovering well above the clouds, and took a moment to appreciate how beautiful the world looked from up here. It was better during the day, but the lights of islands and cruise ships had their own sort of cold beauty. He began descending again, a peaceful fall towards the next young boy who needed a nudge and some angelic assistance to get out of whatever shithole life had dumped them into, and managed not to get smacked in the face with one of his coat sleeves for once.

His descent brought him to a ship, large and strangely shaped, which looked like nothing more than a square-ish deck with some structures rising out of it resting atop a giant snail. He wished he could say he’d seen weirder things, but even Doffy’s crew had nothing on this. His feet touched the deck silently, and he let what he’d come to call his angel sense guide him towards the boy who needed his help. Rocinante had helped some press-ganged chore boys get out of bad crews in the past few months, but the room he wound up in was a far cry from any bunk room he’d ever seen.

The walls were a pale blue with the outlines of large fish scrawled on them in crayon, one corner held a small table covered in paper and child appropriate art supplies with the resulting artworks tacked up on the walls nearby, and there was an honest to god four poster bed. Even Doffy didn’t have a four poster bed in his room, and that man was the most ostentatious person Rocinante had ever had the displeasure of knowing in life.

A small noise came from the bed, and Rocinante phased through the curtains to take a weightless seat on the edge of the mattress. The boy under the bubble-patterned blanket was tiny, blond, and crying in his sleep. Rocinante made shushing sounds, and hummed an old lullaby as he stroked the boy’s hair. The contact seemed to calm the child, and Rocinante focused his angel powers for a moment. Eight years old. This boy was eight years old, living in the lap of luxury, and crying in his sleep. Rocinante shivered, and pulled the boy’s blankets tighter around him. He’d be on this ship until they made port, but tomorrow he would watch over the child and try to figure out why he was needed.

-

Rocinante really, _really_ wished he could become tangible enough to punch Vinsmoke Jajji in the goddamn face. The man said, to his own traumatised son’s tear-stained face, that his wife and youngest daughter deserved to die for attempting to leave the family. He said that Sanji had only been spared because he was an heir, called his own child a coward and weakling, and sent the boy away as fresh tears slid down little Sanji’s face and snot ran from his nose. 

“It’s okay.” Rocinante said once they reached Sanji’s room, though the boy’s waking mind couldn’t hear him. “He’s wrong.”

“Dad’s _stupid_.” Sanji muttered into one of his pillows, tiny frame shuddering with his uneven breaths. “I hate him. I hate him I hate him I _hate him_!” the tiny blond abruptly sat up and flung his tear-stained pillow across the room, shaking with the force of his rage and his silent sobs. Rocinante’s chest ached, and not for the first time he wished he could become tangible enough to give the boy a hug like he so clearly needed.

“I swear, Sanji.” he said quietly, though nobody could hear him. “I will do everything in my power to save you.”

\---

Sanji took a shaky breath, and slowly slid out of bed. Jajji had doubled the guard on his room when they reached this island, but they wouldn’t be checking on him for another hour and a few pillows under the blanket should suffice to throw them off until morning. He could only fit two changes of clothes and one pair of shoes in his little waterproof bag, but that would have to do. The window was still open, as he’d left it a few hours earlier, and his bare feet made no sound as he clambered up onto the sill.

Mom had called them all children of the sea until a few years ago, princes and princess of a kingdom far more vast than any island in the world. Mom had said he could swim before he could walk, and he knew was a better swimmer than any of his older siblings had been at eight, but he’d never done a dive from higher than the main deck. Ichiji was the best of them at hitting the water, and even he said that a jump off the first or second floor roof hurt like hell. Sanji took a deep breath, tightened the straps on his bag, and dove.

The surface of the water wasn’t as bad as he feared, but it still stung all over his skin. The chill wasn’t so bad either, and after a few quick gasps he struck out for shore. There was a big, nice looking ship on the next pier over, and he’d seen lots of people boarding it during the day. One of the soldiers had told him it was a cruise ship, and apparently he’d worked on one before joining their military. Most importantly, however, he’d been happy to tell Sanji that ships like that were always looking for new people to work for them.

Sanji climbed out of the water and shivered, the night breeze cutting right through his sodden PJs. He quickly pulled them off, and after a moment of deliberation knelt to dig a small hole in the sand just above the high tide marks. He wadded up his pajamas, stuffed them in the hole, and smoothed the sand over it so it hopefully didn’t look suspicious. It was far from perfect, Jajji would have his hide if he’d been so sloppy on a mission, but it would do. 

\---

Rocinante watched with a small smile as Sanji walked down the beach towards the next pier, slowly dressing as he went. The boy was clever, no doubting that. He walked in the wet sand, allowing the waves to wash his footprints away as they were made rather than leaving them for the high tide to finish off. He didn’t pull on his socks and shoes until just before climbing up onto the pier, and left only three shoe prints in the mostly-dry sand. Roci briefly wondered if he shouldn’t have guided the boy to a Marine ship instead, since there was in fact one docked a few piers down, but shook his head after a moment. If that was what he was meant to do, he’d be able to feel it.

Rocinante tapped Sanji’s shoulders, and the boy squared them as he approached the skeptical-looking night guard. 

“You’re here for a job.” Rocinante urged quietly, and Sanji stood as tall as he was able.

“I’m here to work.” the tiny blond said, meeting the guard’s eyes without flinching. The man opened his mouth to send Sanji away, and Rocinante flicked a bit of angel magic at him. The guard looked befuddled for a second, then jerked his head towards the ship’s aft deck.

“Talk to Martha, she’s back there.”

Rocinante grinned as he trailed Sanji towards the rear deck, hands in his pockets. Martha turned out to be a broad woman, probably in her late thirties. She took one look at Sanji, his damp hair and the bruise peeking out from under his shirt sleeve where Jajji grabbed him roughly the other day, and immediately put out her cigarette to usher him towards the bunk rooms. He could feel the tug between his shoulder blades which meant his job was done, and allowed himself to be dragged back up into the sky with a smile.


End file.
